Page 47 of Sherry and Sunflowers
"Like Rolos?" Zia asked, wide-eyed.
Alara glanced over at Reaves, and he smiled, still pleased that she'd included him in that.
"As a matter of fact," said his dad, "that's not a bad comparison, young lady. It is sweet. Some of them can be quite caramelly. And…" He nodded. "Yes. Kind of like Rolos." He smiled at Zia.
"But I can't have one, since it's a kind of wine, right?" Zia asked.
"No, I'm afraid it'll be a long time before you can drink it," said his dad.
"That's okay, I can wait. And when I'm old enough, you'll let me have a drink. You'll share your sherry with me, won't you?"
That heavy weight in Reaves's stomach suddenly seemed to weigh a ton. When he saw the sadness flash across his dad's face, he couldn't bring himself to think about it. It'd be fifteen years before Zia was of legal drinking age. Would his dad still be around? He swallowed and cut through the moment, because he had to.
"I'll tell you what, Z—if you're lucky, you might get to taste it early. Dad let me try when I was younger." He shot Alara an apologetic look as he added, "But only because wine's our family business."
Zia nodded. "I don't mind waiting. I can have Rolos. And even though you can't give me sherry, I have something I want to give you. Is it okay if I do it now, Mom?"
"Okay. Yes, you can. Where is it?"
Zia was already sliding down from the sofa. "I left it in your office. Do you want me to bring your pictures too?"
Alara glanced at his dad. "I don't think so. Not tonight. Grandpa Grape’s…"
His dad raised his eyebrows. "Is there something you'd like to show me?"
Reaves felt bad for her when she dropped her gaze before looking back up. "There is, but it can wait. You said no business tonight, and I don't want—"
His dad held up a hand to stop her. "Then I'm sorry. I didn't explain myself clearly enough. What I meant was that I don't want to focus on the business issues. Not while we have the chance to spend a family evening together like this. This is far more important to me." Reaves's throat tightened when his dad added, "But your work is part of who you are. And you are part of this family." He smiled before turning to Zia, who was waiting in the doorway. "I think you should bring it."
Alara leapt to her feet. "I'll come with you, Z."
When they returned a few minutes later, Zia stood behind Alara, who was clutching a large portfolio. His dad got to his feet. "Is that what I think it is?"
"It is. And I think… I hope…"
Reaves followed them to the game table in the corner where Alara laid down the portfolio.
"You can think and hope all you like," his dad told her. "I know. I know this is going to be wonderful. So please, if you will."
Zia pushed in to stand beside his dad and take hold of his hand. "It's very pretty, Grandpa Grape. And it's very…" She wrinkled her little nose. "Grown-up, too. Grown-up things aren't usually pretty, you know."
His dad chuckled. "Yes, I'd noticed that myself."
While Alara unzipped the portfolio, Zia grasped a paper gift bag behind her back. She caught Reaves looking and nodded emphatically before saying in a stage whisper, "This is my gift, but we can't tell Grandpa Grape yet. He needs to see Mom's pictures first."
"Are you ready?" Alara asked.
Reaves noticed the way her hands shook as she reached in to slide the papers out. It landed right in his chest when he understood: she wasn't nervous about the designs. When she’d shown them to him, he'd loved her confidence as she'd explained them. Her nerves now weren't about her work. They were about how his dad would receive it.
His dad drew in a deep breath, seeming to brace himself as he nodded. "Let's see it, then. Show me how you plan to drag me kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century."
Alara's hands stilled. "Stop. No, Charles, that's not what this is about. There's no dragging, no kicking, no screaming. My intention here is to pave the way—to roll out a red carpet in front of you and the House of St. James as you stride into the twenty-first century and claim your rightful place."
Reaves could barely breathe as he watched his dad take a handkerchief from his pocket and dab at his eyes before turning to Zia and saying, "Well, that's me put in my place, isn't it?"
Zia patted his hand. "That's what Mom does. She sees people. And flowers. And everything, really. And then she puts them into pictures and designs that help everyone else see them the way they really are."
His dad shot Reaves a glance and cleared his throat. Then he turned back to Alara. "Then show me how you see me."
